| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Heritage of the Desert by Zane Grey: his pipe. Hare offered his hand.
"Your word goes. Dave Naab said you might be Holderness's foreman, but
you weren't a liar or a thief. I'd believe it even if Dave hadn't told
me."
"Them fellers you tracked rode in here yesterday. They're gone now.
I've no more to say, except I never hired them.'
"I'm glad to hear it. Good-day, Snood, I'm in something of a hurry."
With that Hare faced about in the direction of White Sage. Once clear of
the corrals he saw the village closer than he had expected to find it.
He walked Silvermane most of the way, and jogged along the rest, so that
he reached the village in the twilight. Memory served him well. He rode
The Heritage of the Desert |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Dark Lady of the Sonnets by George Bernard Shaw: would, simply by writing about him.
Let me tell the story formally.
Thomas Tyler
Throughout the eighties at least, and probably for some years before,
the British Museum reading room was used daily by a gentleman of such
astonishing and crushing ugliness that no one who had once seen him
could ever thereafter forget him. He was of fair complexion, rather
golden red than sandy; aged between forty-five and sixty; and dressed
in frock coat and tall hat of presentable but never new appearance.
His figure was rectangular, waistless, neckless, ankleless, of middle
height, looking shortish because, though he was not particularly
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Blue Flower by Henry van Dyke: on it, sharp and jagged, an outline of the fir-trees on the
mountain-crest quarter of, a mile away.
In summer the highways are dissolved into three wild
rivers--the River of Rocks, which issues from the hills; the
River of Meadows, which flows from the great lake; and the
River of the Way Out, which runs down from their meeting-place
to the settlements and the little world. But in winter, when
the ice is firm under the snow, and the going is fine, there
are no tracks upon the three broad roads except the paths of
the caribou, and the footprints of the marten and the mink and
the fox, and the narrow trails made by Luke Dubois on his way
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